Troika
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, days 967a-987a: When Brittany is taken, it's up to Santana and Quinn to get her back. - Trinity series
1. Lost

_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 46th cycle. Now cycle 47!_

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_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: What You Didn't See._

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**"Troika"  
(Older) Quinn, Santana/Brittany  
Trinity Series  
_(all series now listed under the communities tab in my profile)_**

**1. Lost**

Maybe the week had been long and she just wanted to get movie night started, maybe she had other things on her mind, but she'd been standing at the window, phone in hand, for a good twenty minutes. She'd texted Brittany, asking what was taking so long, and she didn't know if it was just her anxious streak, but she couldn't keep herself from checking her screen over and over.

"You push that elevator button fifty times, doesn't get there faster either," Quinn called out to her, carrying more snacks in from the kitchen. Santana turned to glare at her. "Or maybe it will," she held out her hands in surrender. Santana looked to her screen again. "What is with you tonight?"

"She hasn't replied," she defended herself, looking back out the window.

"She's probably stuck trying to decide which flavors to get. Last month, it took her half an hour," Quinn reminded her, moving to the liquor cabinet and frowning to herself as she searched for one bottle in particular.

"Pistachio," Santana breathed. "And peanut butter chocolate." Quinn looked up. "She got the ice cream already, she said so in her last message." She looked to the screen again; now she was getting worried.

"Maybe she went back for something," Quinn offered, though part of her couldn't help but go to the concern place, too.

"She would have written back, or called."

"She can take care of herself, you and I both know that. I'm sure everything's fine," Quinn went up to the window with her. "You won't do yourself any good standing there until she gets here. Her battery could have run out because she forgot to charge it… again."

"Yeah, maybe…" she stared out the window still. She could tell Quinn was looking at her, so she breathed out. "Go ahead and start the movie playing, she won't mind." Quinn hesitated for a beat, but she went. Santana stayed.

X

Quinn didn't tend to remember her dreams, except for bits and pieces. She vaguely remembered something about horses, when Santana's voice invaded her head.

"Quinn, wake up. Now, I mean it, wake up," it continued, growing impatient.

"Just shut my eyes, I'm good, I…" Darkness had given way to daylight, or it was starting to… It was morning. "Is it morning already?"

"She's not here," Santana declared, which got her to pay attention.

"What?" She saw Santana's face, and Quinn doubted she'd slept at all. "Has she… called, or…"

"Nothing," Santana shook her head, trying to sound calm, but there was no telling how long that would last. "I thought about going out there, but then I thought what if she comes back, and I'm not here, and…" As together as they could all be when they had jobs to pull, in that moment, Santana's worry for her wife was overriding all.

"Alright," Quinn got up, for her part switching into Breaker mode, with her one goal being to locate Brittany. As much as she didn't want to say anything to the already fearful Santana, she was starting to fear, too. She went to her computer, calling up the tracker in her phone, but she hit a wall, as it couldn't locate her phone. It didn't have to mean anything, but it wasn't good either. For now Santana wasn't really paying attention to her, which might have been a good thing.

From Claudia she had gotten access to a system which would let her search out whether anyone matching Brittany's description had come into hospitals in the city… or morgues. This had thankfully yielded no results, though this still left her no closer to finding her.

At one point she'd heard the door shut and she scrambled to go see if it was Brittany, but it wasn't. Santana stood there, still distraught, holding the newspaper. "I thought it was her, but it was just…"

"Hey, come here, sit," she led her to the table, got her to sit while she dumped the paper next to her computer. "You haven't slept, that can't be good, you said so yourself, you had a crazy week…"

"What else am I going to do?" she asked, staring up at her friend. "Come on, what did you find?" she asked, and Quinn went back to sit at the laptop.

"Nothing to help us, yet," Quinn made sure to leave hope in her voice. "But I still need to…"

Her eye had caught on to it before she did. She just stared for a while, thinking this couldn't possibly be what she thought it was. "What's wrong?" Santana asked while Quinn reached for the paper, unfolded it and turned it over.

"Not possible…" she breathed.

"What? What is it?" Santana asked, and Quinn turned the paper over for her to see. Right there, in the middle of a prompt for the readers to turn to a certain page to find an article on 'local tattoo artists,' there was an image they recognized: it was Brittany's tattoo, one third of the tattoos they had all gotten together.

"What…" Santana heaved, while Quinn sought out the page, where she not only found an article, but the pictures again, bigger now. "Let me see," Santana asked, her voice flat. Quinn hesitated, but she did as told. Santana looked at it carefully, but then she had to confirm what she had feared.

She hadn't just disappeared: someone had taken her. Quinn took the paper back, looked at the article. Whoever had done this, they had means, skills… They weren't messing around, but then neither was she. There was something in there, and she'd find it.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	2. Crack

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: This Department and That One Too._

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**"Troika"**

**2. Crack**

Looking at the sheet laid out before her, she needed to take a moment and just stop, just breathe. This wasn't someone she was breaking into a museum for, to get some trinket or heirloom. This was nearly twenty years of friendship, of classes, and sleepovers, cheer camp and Glee Club, joys and challenges, ups and downs… This was one of her two best friends, with her life on the line… It was her worst fear come to life.

She had this, she broke codes, she figured out everything… That was her job. She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands over her face to try and wake herself up more. She could see Santana pacing the floor, and she could not even begin to imagine what she must have been going through.

They knew roughly when she would have been taken, but already that was over half a day ago. But they had chosen to deliver their message in the paper, which had come just minutes ago, so this told her Brittany had to still be alright, still alive. With that thought in mind, she had taken one more breath and she had started looking through the article.

Santana knew she should have been sleeping, but right then she couldn't make herself sit, much less lie down. What had started as a nagging feeling had just gotten worse and worse. She had seen the night hours waste away in slow agony, needing to see her turn that corner and walk toward their building.

She stood watch, because it was all she could do. She was paralyzed in her fears for that moment, and she hated it. She should have been able to go out there, turn over every stone until she found her, but she couldn't, and maybe part of her didn't understand, but part of her did…

But now they knew something. Now they knew someone had taken her, they knew there was a proper reason for her absence… and that reason was a person.

Standing there, she realized her reactions would be… skewed. There was so much on the line, she knew. And still all she wanted in the moment was to find the guy who had Brittany and make him hurt… slowly… for a long time.

She didn't know what this was about, why they had taken her. The easy answer would have been that it was something to do with what they did, but what if it wasn't? They could have been concentrating all their thoughts in one direction when it should have been another… But then there was the paper. That would have demanded skill, thought, resources… This was not some pervert who had snatched her off the street because she looked like the girl who dumped him in high school or any of that psycho crap.

She looked out to where Quinn sat, and she saw she was writing. She'd done it then? She'd cracked the code? Of course she had, she was brilliant with that stuff. But then just what would she find? There was security in not knowing… Then things couldn't get worse. They couldn't get better either. So whatever Quinn found, she'd have to go with it.

It hadn't been that hard. This wasn't for lack of skill on their part, far from that. It had been made just so that the message would not be found, not unless they were looking for it. And if they were looking for it, it wouldn't be that hard to find.

There were two parts to the message: a date, and what she'd see was an address.

She paused, took a breath to refocus herself, then looked again. The date… It was some years ago, even before she and Brittany and Santana worked together as Trinity. And then there was the address. It was here, in New York, she recognized it from…

She froze, sitting up in her chair. She knew the place, within seconds she could call back the building in her mind. She had only been there once but it had left an impression… She still bore the long jagged scar on her arm from the time she had been there.

The rule had been hers all this time for a reason: Don't work at home. When she'd been on her own she never once took a job in the city where she lived; too easy to risk getting caught. And when she'd taken this job, the one which had led her to the address in the message, she wasn't living in New York. She would have been gone right after, and she was… but she had come back for them, and one thing had led to another, and then they were living together, and working together… And it had never occurred to them that this one job would have brought them to where they were now. She should have known, with how close she'd come to getting caught, how they'd seen her face and that had not landed her on 'wanted' posters hanging left and right.

Somehow they had found her, they'd found Brittany. Did they even know just who they had? Back then she'd worked alone, so they might not know Brittany was an associate, they could think she was just a roommate… Did that even make it better?

Either way, this was her fault, all of it. If anything happened to Brittany, it would be on her. Everything they had been through, with Trinity, it had been so worth it, she knew… It had saved her life in more ways than she knew how, knowing the place she'd been in without them. She wouldn't exchange it or renounce it, none of it. Except now here they were.

She knew the date now, of course. That was the night she'd broken into that place, the night after she'd run into Brittany and Santana again after years of being apart. It was the night she'd told them what she did and inadvertently started them on their way to joining her.

The message was clear: it was about that night, that place. Did they want back what she'd taken? She didn't have it anymore, she'd delivered it to her client, as she would… Whatever bargaining tool she might have had for Brittany's safe return, it was gone.

"What is it?" She looked up to find Santana standing across the table. "What did you find?" she asked… Quinn didn't know what to tell her.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	3. Unveil

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: There Was This Girl Named LC._

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**"Troika"**

**3. Unveil**

She knew the moment she told her what she knew… something was going to happen. She didn't know what it would be, but there'd be something. She couldn't not tell her though. If anything, a lack of honesty, of information, would be more dangerous.

"I know where she is," she stated, and she could see in Santana's eyes a twinge of relief, but then back to business. Quinn pushed the sheet with the address and date over to her. She watched Santana read them, saw how something did feel familiar, at least the date. So Quinn went on. "That's the night you guys found me in your bathroom," she indicated her arm, and now the full truth of it hit Santana as well.

"They're the ones that got her?" she asked, and Quinn nodded. She could see her just want to hate her in that moment, because it was about her, they knew now, and she was all there was to lash out against… But she couldn't, because no matter what, they were best friends. Her face frowned around her tears, and she just shook her head. Quinn felt herself well up, too.

"San, I…" Before she could say anything, she was striding off. Quinn got up to follow. "Santana, wait," she begged. She'd gone off into hers and Brittany's room, opened the closet and the – now reinforced – panel before spinning the combination on the wall safe. "What are you doing?" Quinn asked as the door came open, and a moment later there was a gun in Santana's hand. Quinn reacted in shock. They'd never had guns, ever, in anything they did, that just wasn't what they were about. "Sant…"

"Do you know how to shoot?" she asked plainly. Quinn couldn't remember how to speak. "Easy question, have you ever shot one of these?" After a moment, she gave a soft nod. It had occurred to her that one day her life could have depended on it, with what she did, so she'd learned, but she never thought she'd… "Okay," Santana took this in stride and reached in the safe to produce a second gun, which she held out to her.

"Wait, no, hang on," Quinn wouldn't pick it up. "This isn't the way…"

"Well what other way is there?" Santana snapped, looking to the guns in her hands and tearing up. Quinn took them from her, put them down. "They've got my wife, Quinn!" she felt her throat twist, "If they'd gotten me, I…" She looked back to the blonde, and then Quinn knew, and she gasped with this added revelation. "It finally stuck, and she doesn't know yet. I was going to tell her… last night, I was going to…" Quinn wrapped her arms around her, just as tearful as she was.

All the effort they'd put in trying to get pregnant, now here they were and this was happening. Quinn just wanted this not to be happening. This day should have been a celebration, and instead it was this.

"I promised I'd keep her safe, do you get that?" Santana sniffled as they pulled back. "Promised her twice, when we decided to join you, and the day we got married. And there's no way I'm letting this kid grow up without her."

"Santana, you can't go in there," Quinn shook her head.

"Like hell I'm not," she was eyeing the guns again.

"You're pregnant," she had to say it, hoping to get her to realize what she was suggesting she do. "What happens if you go in there and something happens to you, happens to the baby…"

"Don't you think I know that? Santana cried, wiped furiously at her eyes. "But I have to, and I'm going to. You can either come with me or not, she went back for the guns. "But I'm going, and I really hope you…"

"Of course I'll come," Quinn shook her head; that had never been a question. "But you need to breathe, and you need to listen to me." When Santana didn't speak, she took this as her cue to go on. "With how vague their message was, I have to think they figured I'd know right away what they wanted."

"They want what you took," Santana knew.

"Which I don't have anymore," Quinn confirmed, which got a whimper out of Santana. "But if that's the case, then it's more than likely that she's still alive, and that they'll keep her that way unless we give them reason not to, which we won't," she promised.

"So what does that mean?"

"You haven't slept, and in your case, knowing what I know now… You need to rest, especially if we're going to break in there to get Brittany back. Gotta think about that baby, too." Santana closed her eyes. She was exhausted, she could finally allow herself to acknowledge it, and that Quinn was right. "Lie down, try to sleep for a few hours. We should wait until it's dark anyway," Quinn added, seeing the strike of panic in Santana's face. She didn't like the idea of leaving Brittany in there that long either, but this was how it had to be.

"What are you going to do?" Santana asked.

"It's been a while, but whatever I can remember about that place, I'll get it drawn up. We need a plan, and that's what I do," she promised. Santana breathed, and again Quinn hugged her. "We'll get her back," she vowed at her ear. Eventually she got her to move back and lie down. She sat on the edge, watching her state at the ceiling. "Do you want me to stay with you a while?" she asked. Santana didn't reply, but she didn't have to. She laid at her side, held her hand. "How long have you known?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Two days," she revealed. "I wanted to wait, to do it right," she explained. Now her face crumpled again, and Quinn turned to hold her. She just might end up crying herself to sleep, but if she got to sleep then that was already a good thing.

There was nothing on this earth to keep Santana from going to rescue Brittany. Add to that the hormones now going through her, and she could see how they'd gotten to the 'guns blazing' scenario. Still if Santana was trying to keep Brittany safe, Quinn was trying to do the same for Santana.

Finally when she had felt that she was asleep, Quinn had gotten up and moved to grab pen and paper. She sat at the dining room table, closed her eyes and tried to call back the memories of this place.

She thought of how she'd gotten in, how she'd gotten out, and the more she thought back, the more she remembered. In very little time, all things considered, she had a very detailed layout. The problem still remained that it had been years. More than that, they had already been broken into… by her. There had to be things that would have been changed. They couldn't rely on the plans too much then.

They had done so many things as Trinity, the three of them. They had been bruised, wounded… but this was the biggest danger they had ever faced… and she feared it would be the one to break them.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	4. Ally

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: The One I Keep To Myself._

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**"Troika"**

**4. Ally**

They didn't know that she knew. More to the point, they were trying to determine if she knew, and what she knew. It must have been important to them, if their methods were any indication. No matter how much she hurt though, she wasn't talking, and if she did, it was to tell them she knew nothing.

She couldn't lie about knowing Quinn. When they'd shown her the picture, Brittany's face had reacted before she could stop it. Still, she wasn't going to slip more than that. From what she gathered, they only knew Quinn as a thief, not her, not Santana.

If she had to die that day to protect them, then she would. She still hoped it wouldn't come to that.

She was almost certain she had passed out at some point, from pain, or hunger, or exhaustion, she wasn't sure. But the next thing she knew, she was alone again, still tied up in the dark. She had no concept of time at this point, how much of it had passed, if it was day or night… In the stillness, she closed her eyes and she thought of them… Santana, and Quinn. She knew they'd be worried for her, that they'd look for her. She almost didn't want them to, didn't want them to be in danger, too. So that just left one solution: she had to get herself out.

X

She must have drifted off to sleep, sitting up in her chair. The next thing she knew, Santana was waking her up. She sat forward, stretching and yawning. "What time is it?"

"Just after four," Santana told her, sitting and taking up the plans 'Breaker' had drawn up. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. But it's been years, some of it will have changed," she warned.

"We'll just have to be careful," Santana wasn't thrown. "Anything else?" she asked, and Quinn hesitated.

"We shouldn't go in alone, you and I. With your condition…"

"I'm pregnant, not terminal, can we not use that word?"

"Fine. But we need to have at least one more person with us, because I'm making sure you and your baby get out of there in one piece." Santana breathed, knowing she was right. So she thought.

"Spencer," she chose, and Quinn's flesh prickled at the fact Santana would pinpoint her boyfriend for this, her boyfriend who had no knowledge of what she really did for a living.

"No, I can't do that," she begged. "There has to be someone else."

"Who? Winger? Not going to happen. Puck's out, too. He's about to be a dad, and Rachel would kill you for even suggesting. And she may be tough but I'd never put this on Hattie, or June, or Lucas, or Claudia, anyone we have here… So either you tell Spencer and have him come along, or it's just you and me."

She was right, Quinn knew it, and she tried not to make it about how this was all somewhat her fault. But to have to tell him everything… She could lose him, in more ways than one.

"I don't want to have to ask, you know I don't…" Santana practically pleaded. Quinn breathed out. She thought of Brittany out there, and she had no idea what they'd do to her, and that terrified her. She wanted to get her out, and if that was what it took…

"Okay… I'll call him. Can you get us packed?"

"I'm on it," Santana nodded with relief. Quinn reached out, squeezing her hand before she went. Quinn stared at her phone for a solid minute before she dialled.

"Hello?" his voice came on the line, and after being trapped in their bubble all day, his voice brought tears to her eyes, which she had to keep under wraps.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hello, lovely," he greeted her as he would, and for a moment it made her smile.

"I need you to come over. Right now."

"Is everything alright?" he asked, serious.

"I'll tell you when you get here, okay?"

"Sure, of course. I'm on my way," he told her, and then he was gone… He was coming, and she felt herself panic.

It was silly. She was worrying about what he would think, while Brittany was out there, having who knew what done to her. She had to power through.

But it was Spencer. When she'd met him, it was just talk, when they would run into each other, in the coffee shop line. She was so concerned about what it would mean to allow him even a little closer, but finally he was becoming important enough that she couldn't keep herself from him.

The New Year's Eve wedding of Santana and Brittany had been a real turning point. There they had begun to ease into a new time in their life together, shared a first kiss… Then in the months since then, she had let him in, and she knew it was right. He made her so happy. Brittany and Santana, their returned friendship, their partnership, it all meant more than they knew, as did having Spencer in her life. She couldn't bear to lose any of them.

It was her fault though, all of it. No matter how she spun it, that was always where it came back to for her. Now she had to put it all on the line and hope, just hope that when this day was done, she could still have some semblance of this good little life of hers left.

She waited for him, trying to figure how on earth she would be able to tell him all of this. They were still on a timetable. They had Brittany, it had been hours… She'd been staring at that picture in the paper like it could help her uncover any more clues as to her condition, she…

The doorbell rang, and she closed her eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	5. Reveal

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Will Work For Summer._

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**"Troika"**

**5. Reveal**

She'd gone and gotten him worried already. She wished she could put him at ease, but if what she had to tell him wasn't enough, her face said the rest. "What happened?" he asked as she waved for him to come in. She shut the door and led him into the living room. "Quinn?"

"I need you to hear me out, alright? What I'm going to tell you is going to sound impossible, but it's not," she told him as she sat and indicated for him to sit. He just nodded. "Brittany, she… she's been kidnapped."

"What?" his eyes went wide. "Have you called the cops?"

"No, we can't." He moved to reply, but she shook her head. "We can't call, because we're going to get her back."

"Quinn, you…" He didn't like the sound of it, but she had to power through.

"We already know who has her, why they've got her, it's… it's all my fault," her eyes turned down at this. She took a breath… This was it, no turning back. She willed herself to look up into his eyes, knowing she had to if she wanted him to believe her. "I'm a thief. We all are, the three of us, except… We don't steal for our own profit. We have clients, and they'll ask us to retrieve something of theirs that's been lost, in one way or another, usually they've landed in museums." She breathed. "We pose no threat, we never carry guns. We're in, we're out, and no one gets hurt… except us, sometimes."

Now she paused, looking at him, to see how he was reacting. She couldn't tell if he believed her or how he felt. It was just a sort of shock, like he was considering it.

"Are you… Is there any chance you're joking right now?" he asked plainly.

"Come with me," she got up, waiting for him to stand as well. When he did, she took him into her bedroom, opened her closet doors; she had her own hidden panels. Pushing the clothes aside, she snaked her hand up to open the panel. When she swung it open, revealing the tools of her trade, she turned back to him. If he didn't believe now…

His hand ran over his mouth, shocked but unable to deny it now… which meant everything else was true, the kidnapping, and what they were planning to do about it.

"Quinn, whatever this is, you can't go in there," he begged.

"It's already been decided," she insisted, then after a beat, "Will you come with us?" she asked. He looked at her.

"Come w… You shouldn't even be…"

"Santana's pregnant," she revealed. She knew she wouldn't mind her telling him, considering the request they were putting on to him.

"All the more reason not to go," he came and took her hands.

"I tried to talk her out of it, but I knew it was pointless from the start. She'll go alone if she has to, and I'm not going to let that happen. That's why I had to tell you all of it, that's why I'm asking…" her voice caught and she breathed it out. "Spencer, I get it if this is too much, and you can't, but if you can…"

"No, of course I'll help you," he sighed, and seeing the lack of anger in him she couldn't help but tear up, and he held her. "I was hoping I could talk you out of it, but if I can't then I'm not letting you in there on your own."

"Thank you," she spoke into his shoulder.

All day long she'd stocked away her worries, needing to support Santana, needing to plan how they'd get Brittany out… This was the first time she could turn to someone else and let them weed out the fears inside her. He just kept holding her, and this was the first time she let herself realize she was in love with him.

"What do we do now?" he asked once she'd managed to let go. She sniffled, drying her face, then took him off in search of Santana. They found her, standing in the kitchen, eating, while two bags rested on the table. She looked over when she sensed them.

"Did you tell him?" she asked.

"Yes," Quinn nodded. "He'll come with us." She could tell Santana had some uneasiness about having had to tell someone their secret even if it was necessary. Putting away the leftovers she'd been digging in, she cleaned her hands, took the bags, and turned to the pair.

"We need to make a stop on the way."

X

No one had come in over an hour. That was fine by her. It left her to consider how she would escape.

She wasn't sure, but her ankle was definitely either sprained or broken. That had happened somewhere in the time just about where she'd felt she had passed out… Maybe that had been the reason. She vaguely remembered a face, and then… the pain… Maybe they wanted to make sure she wouldn't run… They really must not have known her too well if that was the case.

She was cuffed to a chair. She sort of remembered this thing about how she could get out of them, but what it involved just didn't sound like she could stomach it. She'd rather try and break the chair and find a way to undo the cuffs after.

She tried to think about the others, about what they would do. She thought about them, with all their planning. She knew if it was at all possible that she should have a plan before she did anything. She had no idea what the layout of the building was, where she should go to get out as quickly as possible. Adding to that the questionable state of her ankle… She couldn't evade a chase. That was one thing.

Then she thought of Santana… Dear Optic, her wife. Her eyes scanned the walls, trying to see if there were cameras, if they were keeping an eye on her all this time. If that was the case, then she had no chance.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	6. Doubt

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Filling In The Black Holes._

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**"Troika"**

**6. Doubt**

They'd walked right into Winger's office/shop, finding him sitting back in his chair, feet on the counter as he stared at a small television and ate from a bowl of cereal. When he'd seen them though he had scrambled and it was a miracle the cereal didn't go off flying. He put the bowl on the counter, springing to his feet with a startled look on his face.

"H-hey, hey… uh… hey… you three?" He took in the faces before him, and Quinn and Santana had to imagine he wondered why they would bring in an 'outsider.' Either that or he still had the reflex to flinch around Santana since he was dating her little sister. They didn't have time to go through the pleasantries.

"Look, we need supplies, now," Santana came up to his counter. "The back store kind." Winger hesitated, looking to Spencer. They had introduced the two of them at the wedding, but this was a whole other scenario.

"W-why, what do you…"

"Someone's taken Brittany," Quinn revealed, and Winger looked up.

"What? Seriously?" he blinked. Santana glared at him. "Right, why would you joke about that," he scolded himself all on his own. "Do you know who…"

"An old mark," Quinn left it at that.

"Right, of course, follow me," he started for the back but stopped and turned back. "Him, too?" he indicated Spencer. "Does he know…" he whispered to Santana.

"He knows," she nodded.

"Good… good. Fantastic," he turned back to lead him into his vault. Quinn looked to Spencer.

"Are you alright? I know it's a lot…"

"I'm fine," he gave a small nod. "He's a bit odd, isn't he," he nodded off to Winger, and she couldn't help but smile.

"You get used to it."

At the open vault door, they stopped, looking in. Santana was already going around fishing through the stock. Quinn looked to Spencer, who just looked around, speechless, then went to Winger.

"Are you the one who got her the guns?" she asked, serious, and he flinched.

"She asked for them, for protection, one for each of them, she said," he spoke like someone who had very briefly feared the bullets had been meant for him, as a warning from a big sister.

"Don't tell him," Santana randomly threw over her shoulder.

"Tell h… tell me what?" Winger asked, but Quinn knew what she was referring to: she didn't want him to know about the baby. He would end up telling Catalina, who would end up telling their mother, and then… They needed to get through this day, get Brittany back, before families could be involved.

"Nothing," Quinn told him, although this didn't comfort him in the least, now he'd think they were plotting something against him. "If you haven't heard from us in two days though…"

"Are you sure about this? I mean I know you girls are all professional and you're solid, but this is a whole other thing you're getting yourselves into."

"It's Brittany," was the only excuse she would give.

"No, of course, and if I could help you, you know I would, but I'm not a… in the field kind of guy, you know?" he gestured nervously.

"Don't worry, we weren't planning to bring you," she tapped his arm, and he nodded and smiled, relieved, but then he paused like he wasn't sure if he wasn't supposed to be hurt. Quinn had gone to Santana. "Need me to get anything?" she asked kindly.

"It's alright, I got it," Santana promised.

"Just swear you'll be c…" she started, but at the look she got from her, she packed away her 'careful' and nodded. "You know." Santana watched her walk off to go look through the shelves before getting back to her own shopping list.

It wasn't like their usual jobs, they knew, and maybe they were just a bit out of their depth, but they were nothing if not adaptable.

Having Spencer around would definitely require some adaptation. She had to hand it to the guy, he was adapting pretty well himself. She looked to him, going around the vault, and he looked… a lot cooler about it than she would have expected. She would have seen him just standing at the door, getting himself a good little aneurysm at realizing his girlfriend was in the running for badass of the year.

But he was walking around, looking at things, picking some of them up, and… Maybe she was just being paranoid, with hormones and worries, but the way he was handling some of those things on the shelve… Brittany and Quinn would both tease her and say that she held some of those things like they were precious and downright sexy. That was what it reminded her of, when she watched him… and everything in her said that this wasn't right.

She had abandoned her own search now, just standing there and watching him. She had never thought anything was wrong with him, but seeing him now she wondered if she ever really knew him. She didn't spend as much time with him as Quinn did, but then…

She just had to test her suspicion, test him. She looked around for something she could use. Maybe she was wrong and she was certifiable, so she shouldn't be too drastic about it, but there just wasn't time to waste.

She could feel the gun in her waistband, and she thought… Maybe that would do it. "Spencer?" she asked, casually pulling the gun out as she looked over Winger's bullet stock. "Ever learn to use one of these?"

"Mostly just from television, film…" he shrugged. She trailed her fingers along the boxes, different calibers. He was looking now, and she needed him to, so she could see how he'd react when she reached for the wrong bullets…

He flinched. He tried to cover it, turning his eyes, but she had him. She pointed the gun at him. "Santana!" Quinn startled.

"Okay, who the hell are you?" she stepped to him.

"Santana, stop, what are you doing?" Quinn begged, not wanting to spook her and make her slip on the trigger… But in the next second, in a flash, Spencer had manoeuvered the weapon out of Santana's hand.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	7. Secret

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Summer Plans & Autumn Plans._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**7. Secret**

The time for shock and betrayal and danger had not been all that long, not long enough to feel any of those things for more than a couple of seconds. In the same motion where he had snatched away the gun held pointed at his face, he had then tossed it aside, letting it slide out of reach of anyone.

"I don't like guns," he stated, while the two girls just stared at him, one in anger, the other in disbelief.

"Spencer..." Quinn sounded like she was about to break. "What's going on?" He looked to her, and he seems sad all of a sudden.

"I never wanted to have to tell you..."

"Tell her what?" Santana's voice was harsh. Spencer took a moment, seeking words.

"I haven't been completely honest with you about who I am, or who I was... I don't consider it part of who I am anymore. It's my past, I'm a new person. I put that life behind me, or I had... until today."

"What are you saying?" Quinn asked.

"I was seventeen, and I started getting into some trouble. Ended up in this gang, and it all became more and more serious as time went on. That lasted six years before it got to the point where I was arrested and they put me in jail. It was..." he breathed, "It was the best thing that could have happened to me. When I got out, I knew it couldn't go back to that. But I almost slipped. That's why I left home, why I came here. I've been living an honest life," he finished this looking at Quinn. She believed him, he could see, and he was just thankful for that.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Santana cut in. "How do we know you're not just spinning us a story?"

"He's telling the truth," Winger was the one to speak up, and they all looked to him.

"How do you know?" Santana asked, but Quinn understood.

"Wait... You two know each other?" she asked, and Winger nodded.

"This is just great," Santana muttered to herself.

"But..." Quinn started.

"Where did we meet?" Spencer asked her.

"The café... It's just down the street from... here," she stated.

"I'd go there sometimes after I came here, then I just continued, after I met you," he looked to Quinn.

"If you say you gave up 'that life!' then why are you here so often?" Santana asked.

"Hey, I don't just equip you guys for what you do, you know?" Winger pointed out.

"When I came here, I found him through a contact to help me secure my house. I was just not looking for anyone to come at me. We became friends after that."

"Then you knew," Quinn stated. "You saw him at the wedding..."

"I didn't say a word, I promise," Winger told her. "When he saw me, he was surprised, I just told him I was hired in my technical capacities, you know... Audio, visual," he gestured. "He's okay, you can trust him," Winger willingly vouched for him.

"Why didn't you say anything before? At the apartment, when Quinn told you what was happening, who we are, what we do," Santana couldn't let go so easy.

"San..." Quinn looked to her.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to," Spencer told her.

"Well, that's just great," Santana sighed, moving to grab the thrown gun. "Except I almost shot you, and then where would we be? In case you've forgotten, they've got my wife, and unless you want our kid orphaned one mom before he or she is even born..."

"Oh my God, you're pregnant?" Winger burst out, and she looked at him. "Oh, okay, I get it, that's what you didn't want her to... I'm shutting up now," he promised.

"If you even allude to it to my sister, I will come at you," she pointed a finger at him.

"Got it, silence is golden."

"Yes, it is." She sighed before looking to the other pair. "At this point, not even sure I should bother with either of you," she grabbed the bags, put in her new items, and stormed out.

The vault was quiet for a moment. Quinn looked to Spencer. "Winger, can you give us a moment? I need to talk to Spencer."

"Right, all yours."

"No cameras. This doesn't concern you." He nodded and left, and now she turned to Spencer.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	8. Trust

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: All Of White._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**8. Trust**

They had been left alone, as requested, but that didn't make it any easier to start talking. He didn't want to go first, knowing it would come off as an excuse of some kind, and she couldn't find a way to look at him without feeling like she should slap him for letting it come out this way. Thinking of that, words had eventually found her.

"So if this hadn't happened, you just wouldn't have said anything?"

"I... I don't know," he replied. "Look, if you never want to see me again after this, I... I'll understand, or I'll try to, at least, I... Right now, you two asked for my help to save Brittany, and I'm here to give it."

"You said you'd hoped I would never find out. That feels like an answer."

"Would you want me to know, if you were me?" he asked.

"I don't know, I just figure if we're going to be a couple, stay a couple, then that should be a part of it, all of it. That you weren't ready, I could accept. That you would keep lying..."

"I wouldn't have..." he started, exasperated in the need to make her understand. "Hoping for something not to happen and knowing it has to are two different things. Quinn, I love you, and I couldn't know how you would react. Knowing what I know about you now, you should understand that. How'd you feel before I got there? If Brittany hadn't been taken, would you have told me?" She was quiet... He had a point.

"Eventually," she spoke.

"So would I," he breathed out. She stepped toward him, slowly, keeping eye contact. Reaching him, she wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the gesture, with something of a sigh of relief. Pulling back, she touched his face, kissed him gently.

"I love you, too," she breathed, her voice choking in her throat, releasing with a smile that was to match his.

"I have to tell you, in the spirit of being honest... I know this life, I know what it does to someone and... you..."

"I know," she nodded.

"I don't know that you do," he looked back at her. "I have lost years of my life... I've lost friends," he inhaled, trying to keep it together. "Look what's happening now. As much good as the three of you might do, you've been lucky all until now. That can run out in a second. Your friends are having a baby, are you going to just..."

"We don't know what we're going to do," Quinn admitted. "I only just found out about the pregnancy this morning. I tried to keep her out of there, but that's not... I need you," she cut to chase.

"You've got me," he promised. "Now let's go get her."

"We'll need to catch up to Santana, first," Quinn reminded him. "And she'll have the car." Spencer gave her a look.

"Come on," he led her out of the vault, back up to the front. "Winger?" he called. The man was pacing about, his vest's sleeves wrapped in a death grip around his hands. He looked up at the sound of his name.

"Yeah?"

"Did she..." Quinn asked.

"Santana? Oh yeah, she's gone," he nodded.

"Okay, then we need your car," Spencer requested. Winger hesitated.

"Can you promise to get it back in one piece... I've only got three payments left on it," he begged, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a key chain with a figurine on the end. When Quinn took hold of it, her fingers pressed to a button which ignited a light and made the figurine robotically cry out 'Exterminate! Exterminate!' She startled, while Spencer chuckled. "Careful with him, too."

"I'll take care of... them," Quinn promises, and the pair left. They found the small car and got in before Quinn sped them away.

"Does she know the way?" Spencer asked.

"She does, and so do I. We need to catch up with her before she gets there. If she gets in there on her own..." Quinn sounded frightened.

"We'll find her," Spencer encouraged. At that, Quinn sped up. She went as close to the speed limit as she could without going over. It took a few minutes, but then... "Is that her?" He pointed to a car. Quinn's response was to slide the car in parallel to the other, then, when Santana didn't slow down, ram in just a little more speed so she could get ahead of her and force her to stop. All three got out of their cars, meeting in the middle. Santana looked ready to hit one or both of them.

"What the hell do you..." she started.

"We're coming with you, end of story," Quinn put her foot down, while Santana glared at Spencer. "He's clear, and he can help us, better than we were hoping for."

"Yeah, and why is that?" Santana frowned.

"We're not exactly in a position to claim innocence here, are we?" Quinn snapped. "We're going to get Brittany out, all three of us, and you can tell her she's going to be a mom," Quinn told her, and she knew it would hit right where it needed to for her.

"Listen here, Scotch boy," she stepped up to Spencer. "I still need more from you before I decide if I trust you or not. So let's get one thing clear: if she dies, you're dead," she stared him in the eye.

"Then what are we waiting for?" he wasn't fazed. Santana wanted to argue, but there was nothing to say. So they all got in their cars and went off to the address.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	9. Stumble

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: That First Ray of Sunshine._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**9. Stumble**

There were no cameras in the room, as far as she could see. She could spot the hidden ones, most times, but that wasn't to say she wouldn't miss one somewhere. Still at this point she had to trust her gut, and it was telling her to go for it.

It wasn't going to be easy. She could make herself and the chair tip over, hoping that it would break and she… wouldn't. But then what if it didn't break and she ended up stuck there, no longer able to move for a new plan.

If it weren't for her ankle, there would probably be a handful more possibilities, but those were out now. Adding to that exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, the whole thing wasn't looking good, but she kept looking for a way out, because she had to. And it gave her strength.

For a while she would make small, sharp movements, testing the chair, looking and hoping to find a weak spot she might be able to use as her impact point, to bring the whole thing down into kindling. She ended up finding one… at the back of the chair. If she gave it a good shove, then she would probably get it to break, only… She would be ramming right into her arms as well. What if they broke?

She had to try it. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. She thought about home, about Santana, and Quinn… They would be worried sick about her, but for her part she was just glad they weren't here, too, unless… What if they had them, too, without her knowledge? What if, in escaping she guaranteed them painful deaths? She'd have to look for them on the way out…

With their faces in mind, she had tried to hold on carefully, securing her fingers. She looked over her shoulder. She would have preferred a run back, to control the impact, but there was her ankle again… She'd have to try and rise on her one foot, hoping she could propel herself backward with just enough strength.

She planted her foot on the ground, braced herself, knowing her whole weight, as well as the chair's, was about to be put on it. She hoisted herself up, and before she could chicken out, she slammed back.

The chair came apart like it was just waiting to. She let out a long, relieved breath, laughing tiredly at herself. The next part was to be a challenge all on its own, in needed to get her hands in front of herself, but she got it done. Now she just had to find something to open the cuffs with…

Sitting there on the ground she had finally been able to examine her ankle. The pain had been just barely okay until then, but now it was as though the thing was pissed off at her. The idea of touching anything below her knee sounded like sheer madness.

For the first time, she was starting to feel properly afraid. It was as though so long as she could ignore the pain in her ankle, she could ignore the one in her mind.

What if she never got out? What if they kept her here? What if she died? Would her family and friends ever really know what had happened to her, or would they think she had just wandered off and, silly her, never returned. Oh, the things they didn't know about her…

She hadn't felt the tears coming on, but then she heard herself whimper. "Help me…"

She had plenty of strength in her, plenty of reasons to keep going, but she was still human, still had those emotions in her. Yes, they were thieves, but more times than not they never had to deal with actual danger. There had been injuries, but it was part of it. The one time that had been different was the time Quinn had been shot. Maybe they should have just stopped then… She knew they all believed in their cause, and that was what it was: a cause, a purpose… a job.

If it had been the only thing they did, then it might have been a different story. But they had jobs, and lives, real lives. What they did, with Trinity… they didn't do it every week, sometimes it could be months between clients… Now she was here and it felt like they were kids in the adults' world. They had skill, without a doubt, but they didn't have the attack in them. They were good people. The ones who had taken her, they weren't good people.

She had made herself stop crying. She had taken deep breaths, used every trick she had been taught in order to calm herself. She had taken the initiative to get herself out, and now that she had broken the chair there was just no turning back. She kept on sniffling back the tears, but she looked in the debris from the chair and found something to undo the cuffs.

When they clicked, it was a renewed hope, and she breathed deep, touching the just barely bruising skin of her wrists. Now came the hard part… She had to stand. She did it, gripping the walls the whole way. She stumbled, and her right foot touched the ground, making the world spin and her heart rise into her throat. She had to pause and wait for the pain to subside, but she was shaking.

She had hopped on her left foot until she reached the table. She sat on it, taking her vest to wrap carefully around her broken ankle. She didn't know how much good it would do, but it did help her just a bit. She grabbed a piece of chair for a cane and then she knew she had to go. She reached for the door… by some miracle, it wasn't locked. There could have been someone outside though…

There was a man, but he had his back turned, and he'd just started turning when she cracked him in the head with her makeshift cane. She didn't want to hurt people, but at this point a quick knockout was necessary. He crumpled to the ground, out cold. He had a radio clipped at his belt, and she hesitated before approaching and trying to retrieve it.

"Hey!" she heard from behind her, and she panicked, trying to get back up but already knowing she couldn't run. Within seconds, two more men were there, and they hoisted her up by the arms. Her cane clattered to the ground while they dragged her back to the room. There was no point trying to fight them, but she did it anyway and got a kick in the leg for her troubles.

They had cuffed her up again, this time to a pipe, with her arms up over her head… She couldn't break this one, she was stuck now.

"Please… just let me go…" she begged, but the man's response was to hit her. She felt her lip split, and on the next hit her cheek slice… She didn't know what whoever was in charge had told them, but apparently this was how badly they wanted whatever they wanted. The pair of them had collectively hit her five times before she felt darkness wash over and she passed out again, missing her wife.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	10. Trespass

**"Troika"**

**10. Trespass**

The rest of the drive had been spent in silence, as Quinn kept an eye both on the road ahead and on Santana in the other car. It wasn't like she thought she'd try and ditch them, but at this point it was kind of impossible to make heads or tails of what she'd end up doing.

But then they had arrived, leaving the cars out of sight but not so far that they couldn't make a quick enough getaway. None of them was willing to say it, but they didn't know in what condition they would find Brittany – if they found her – nor did they know what condition the rest of them would be in when… if… they got out of there.

They went and found a place to stand so they could look upon their target. For Quinn, the moment wasn't without chills. She'd driven past the place countless times over the years, and it still did something to her… a sympathetic ache in her arm. This is no way compared to this feeling here tonight. This time she wasn't just passing in front of it, she was actually planning to go in.

"Quinn?" she snapped out of it, hearing Spencer's voice and feeling his hand on her arm. She looked to him, to Santana. It was time.

"Last time, I went in through there," she pointed to a side door. "Came out there," she pointed to a higher window.

"And ripped your arm open," Santana added.

"Yes, I know," Quinn sighed. "We should find a different way."

"What happens if and when you do find her, and you want to leave?" Spencer asked, leaving the two of them confused as to what he meant. "From what you've told me, they have gone to great lengths, not only to find you after these years, but to make you come to them."

"What's your point?" Santana asked, serious; they kind of knew already.

"My point is this won't just go away. Even if you get Brittany back… They won't just go away. They will come after you again, and maybe that time they won't just take one of them," he was looking to Quinn now. "And if they don't kill one of them, or anyone else they can find in order to make you reveal yourself… They'll find another way." The girls were silent. "So what happens then?"

Quinn couldn't speak. If things weren't bad enough with the knowledge that her past actions had gotten one of her friends kidnapped, now they were talking about something even bigger. What were they supposed to do? Go on the run? Disappear? It was either that or…

"I'll kill them," Santana stated, her voice flat, like she needed it to be.

"Santana…" Quinn's eyes watered… It couldn't get to this…

"They took my wife," she said, again, her mantra in all her actions since that morning. "And he's right, they won't stop, they won't leave us alone. It's not just the three of us anymore. You've got him, and us…" her hand had gone to graze at her stomach and her fingers were shaking. "If they found us, they could find any of them. Rachel and Puck, Hattie and June, Claudia and Lucas, Winger… all our families back home…" Quinn's mind went to her mother, her sister and her family… even her father. They had no idea what she did and this could still get to them. "They've made this personal now."

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Spencer asked her, knowing the answer, but needing to make her think about what it was she was aiming to do.

"No, of course not," she looked down with a sigh, swiping just briefly at her eyes. "Have you?" she turned the question on him, maybe hoping it would grand her power back.

"No," Spencer revealed, and Quinn couldn't pretend some part of her wasn't sighing in relief at that. "But I've come close to it. Even then I know… It stays with you, like a scar no one else sees." Quinn could see in his face there was more to this story, but it was neither the time nor the place to go into it.

"What else are we supposed to do?" Santana asked, looking to him, to Quinn. "Damn it, don't give me those eyes again."

"What are you…" Quinn asked, sniffling.

"Your 'this is all my fault' eyes. You couldn't have known this would happen," she had reached for her. Quinn moved up to hug her.

"I broke my rule, I shouldn't have stayed here," she cried.

"And then what?" We would have lost each other again, you wouldn't have met him," Santana looked to Spencer. "We can get through this," she gave a firm nod through her tears. "Got it? This is what we do, always. We'll get Britt back, and then… we'll find a way. Come on, Aunt Quinn," she hugged her again, and Quinn did the same. "Now no more crying, time to put your game face on," she told her, and they pulled apart, looking back to the building.

"Santana?" Spencer asked her. When she looked over, he nodded to the back of her shirt. "I think you should give me one of those." She stared at him. "You're going to have to decide once and for all whether you trust me." She stepped up to him, reaching back and pulling out one of the two guns and placing it in his hand, all the while keeping eye contact with him.

"Safety's on, fully loaded… Don't make me regret this." He put the gun in his waistband now, while Quinn touched her friend's arm with a silent thank you.

"Let's go this way," she pointed, and the trio took off to find their entry point into the building.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	11. Sneak

**"Troika"**

**11. Sneak**

Quinn remembered all the entry and exit points. It was always crucial for her to be able to find the quickest way out, account for back up options, in case something went wrong. She would learn them the way she learned choreography or a song back in the day. Every place she went into, every plan she made, became tied to a song… This place was, of all things, 'Over the Rainbow.'

"You should give me the other gun," Quinn told Santana as they walked along the outer wall.

"How about no," she frowned, and Quinn sighed.

"Going to make me say it like this? You're pregnant, which means you need to be protected. If it comes to the point where we do need to shoot, you need to hide… and the people who shoot will get shot at. Right now better it be me than you," she stopped and turned, holding out her hand in wait. Santana went on frowning.

"Fine, be that way," she retrieved the gun and gave it to her.

"And the ammo."

"Sure," she kept on frowning, handing it over as well. "I know my face doesn't show it right now, but I agree with you."

"Thanks, I wasn't sure there for a minute," she let out a breath, looked to Spencer. He must have been so confused right then. He wasn't used to how they talked to each other on jobs. They trusted each other implicitly, they had to… It didn't always make them happy, but they knew the difference between not liking something because they didn't agree and because it was wrong.

"Lead the way," Santana nodded.

"Keep a lookout," Quinn pointed up to the walls – look for cameras – and Santana signalled she was on it, turning her eyes up.

They kept on moving, one behind the other all in a row, Quinn, and Santana, and Spencer. As they went, Quinn couldn't help but think this was a mistake, that any of a hundred things could go wrong. She would gladly consider her life forfeit if it meant that Santana and Brittany and their baby would get to live a good and happy life together.

"You have to be careful, okay?" Quinn told her. "Can't go throwing yourself around right now."

"Yes, you'd be the expert on all that, wouldn't you? Relax, I know what I have to do, I'm not that far gone."

"Not this one," she stopped them before they could pass a door. This would happen for the next few minutes, the next potential entries. Some were abandoned because they couldn't guarantee safe passage for Santana. Others took them close to a camera, and others were ruled out from Quinn knowing the layout and what rested on the other side.

"What if this is what they want you to do?" Spencer asked from the back. "Wash you out, make you go in one door, one window, anything, so they can be right on the other side to catch you."

"There have been points we could have taken if not for the baby," Quinn pointed out. "This is just us finding something that works for all of us," she explained. Then Santana took her by the shoulders to stop her. Quinn looked over her shoulder to her, and Santana nodded up.

"I can make that."

"Are you crazy?"

"I'm telling you," Santana insisted. "Trust me." Quinn sighed, but she nodded.

"Surveillance?" she asked, and Santana held up one of her tools with that smirk of hers that usually meant she'd pulled some trick or another. "Right, let's get in there." She hesitated still, but they were going through the motions now, assessing what they needed to get in, pulling from their supplies.

Spencer just watched them and followed their lead at this point. She hated that they'd had to pull him into this, knowing what they knew now. There he'd been, living a better life, and then she'd happened to him. If they could all just get through this, he would be able to get back to who he had become, instead of who he used to be.

Quinn had gone first, opening the way for all of them. She made sure Santana got in alright, and then Spencer brought up the rear. They had returned everything as it was meant to be, and now they had to move to the next step. Getting in without getting caught was fine, but they had to remain undetected for this to work.

"Any idea where they might be keeping her?" Santana whispered to Quinn, but then they stopped.

"Someone's coming," Spencer whispered, and if they weren't so in a hurry to take cover, Santana might have thrown a quip of some sort.

They found a side door, bringing them into a small darkened room, where they huddled together, as quiet as could be. All they could do was stand, and wait, and listen.

In the dark, Quinn felt Santana take her hand, and she gave hers a squeeze. She didn't want to show fear, but she had more than enough of it in that moment, because of what had happened, what might happen, and what they might have to do.

In squeezing back, Quinn told her that she knew, that she understood, that she was scared, too, but that like in everything they had been through in the last few years, they would pull through together. They were one short, and that affected things, affected them. But now they were here, and they would find her. They would save her.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	12. Listen

**"Troika"**

**12. Listen**

Before long they had come to realize where they were, hiding in the dark, would last at least a few minutes. The number of footfalls and voices made them agree there were two of them out there, men. These were not people in charge or even second in command. They just did as told. The trio hiding had no better option than to try and listen in. They could make out their voices without effort.

It hadn't been clear at first what they were talking about. But then they mentioned something about not being exactly aware of what 'that chick in the picture' had done, but that she sure had pissed off the boss. Now they knew… The pair were talking about Quinn.

She could imagine the ones in charge intended for some kind of face off, but that wasn't how she played, how the Trinity played. If she played her cards right – and she intended to do so – this would work as all her jobs did. She got it, got what she'd come for, and then she was out, leaving no trace.

Of course in this case there were a couple more variables. It was a person they were retrieving, and her team included a hormonally charged pregnant wife and a recovering criminal… There was potential for error, but they were nothing if not creative, so hopefully this would not be a problem for long.

"Guess we have to wait until she wakes up again," the words from one of the men drew her attention… She didn't think they were talking about her anymore. Judging by the way Santana's grip had changed, the conversation had turned to their hostage. With any luck, whatever they said would lead the three of them to her.

"Are they sure she even knows anything?" the other one asked. "It's not like she's one of those secret agents, trained to withstand torture or something."

She had to wrap both her arms around Santana, locking down her arms, just so she wouldn't leap through the door. Spencer had the initiative to cover her mouth so she wouldn't be heard either. Quinn wasn't exactly keeping it together either, to hear them talk.

What were they doing to her? From what she'd heard, Brittany had been unconscious a couple of times at least, and… and they were trying to make her talk, the way they usually would… and she'd been there for a day. She rested her forehead to the side of Santana's head, a silent message: 'we'll get her out, I swear.'

"Well when she wakes up again, we'll feed her. Maybe that'll put her in a chatting mood," the first man spoke.

"We should tell them about how she tried to escape," the second one was saying.

"On our watch? Forget it, she's not getting out now anyway." In their hiding spot, Santana had calmed, so they let her go. Hopefully hearing about how Brittany had been fighting to get out would put some of Santana's mind at ease.

"They came from that way," she pointed in one direction, and Quinn thought back to her plans.

"That's good. I might have an idea where she is then. But we'll have to hurry. Once we're in that section we'll have a lot of rooms to check, and no way to leave the building until we're out again."

"And then what are you going to do?" Spencer asked her, and she looked into his eyes. They were back on that subject: how were they going to make this go away for good?

"We'll get to it when we get to it," was all she could say, and as much as she could see he wasn't happy about that, she knew deep down even she wasn't happy about it either. She knew what she'd want to do, but that wouldn't make things better. For now, their goal had to be Brittany's rescue.

"Something else," he told her. "I recognized one of those guys." Santana turned to him as well.

"Where from?" Quinn asked.

"Take a wild guess," Santana frowned.

"I met him a couple of times back in the day," he confirmed.

"What do you know about him?" Quinn asked. "Do you know who he works for?"

"He made his way around, I wouldn't know who he's with now. But I know the kind of people he runs with."

"And?" Santana asked. "Is that good news or bad?"

"Depends on how you look at it," he hesitated, thinking about it.

"Well how are you looking at it?" He looked to the two of them.

"Let's just try and get Brittany out for now," he told them both but looked to Quinn only. They were filing that one under 'we'll get to it later' right along with the trying to figure out what they'd do about the situation in general.

They listened for the voices of the two men, waiting for them to retreat. "We need to get out of here soon, it smells like food in here and I think this kid got Javi's appetite," Santana whispered.

That was the thing to get Quinn's ear twitching, remembering what the guys had said, about feeding Brittany. She knew in her gut what was about to happen, but there was no time to act on it, to alert Santana and Spencer and get them to move before…

The lights came on behind them, as the other door opened, and in walked the men from the hall.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	13. Fight

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Step Thirty-Nine, Open Your Mind._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**13. Fight**

For a moment, no one moved. The three of them were caught, no way around it. They were breaking in and they looked like it. "Who the hell are you?" one of the men had asked, and as much as he could try to hide who he was, Spencer knew what was bound to happen.

"Wait a second," the other man asked, staring at him. He pointed a finger at him. "I know you." He didn't want to talk. With any luck, he wouldn't place him, but if he heard him talk… The accent had a way of bridging the gap. In this case though, he knew, and the girls knew, that it wasn't going to happen… and the dominos would fall. He could already see Quinn try to wedge herself in front of Santana. Quinn may have been there to protect Santana, but Spencer was there to protect Quinn.

"Yeah… Yeah, you know me," he dug deep to reach the face he needed to give them at least a little something to be scared of… Any sort of wiggle room they could get their hands on was needed. Judging by the double take and the slight step back of the ones who'd found them, he had gotten it. "Now what comes next is all up to you," he had taken one step and then another, and then his old 'acquaintance' took a swing at him… which he ducked away from. "Fine," Spencer nodded and knocked him down. The second man reached for his radio.

"Hey, hey!" Quinn reacted now, pulling out and pointing the gun at him. "Don't even think about it." The guy looked at her, chuckled.

"Have you ever even held one of those, sweetheart?"

"I wouldn't tempt her… poodle," Santana glared at him. "My girl here's got a temper… and an itchy trigger finger." Quinn nudged her with her foot: keep it cool.

"Down on your knees," Quinn told the man. He frowned, he wasn't going down.

"Damn…" Spencer muttered, swinging at him. This one didn't drop so quick. Instead, he blocked the blow and got a hit of his own. Spencer staggered but recovered within a moment. He charged, and then they were grappling. Quinn startled, unsure what to do. But then the first guy was moving, and she stepped right to him, stepping on his hand and pointing the gun at his head when he grunted.

"What about you? You want to test me?" He frowned, but he didn't move, holding his other hand up in surrender. She stepped off his hand, took a step back without letting him out of her sight. "Turn around, on your knees, hands behind your head, interlock your fingers."

He was slow to move, but once he did and had his back turned, her eyes went to Spencer, who was still fighting the other guy. She was freaking out inside, but she couldn't let them see.

Santana had gotten hold of a roll of tape from one of her bags, coming up to bind him. Quinn didn't like having her anywhere near these people right now, but there was no other way. She had his hands and feet taped up good, one last piece over his mouth. "Lucky the worst thing that came to my mind was to hog tie you," she told him.

Now that he was restrained, Quinn turned to help Spencer. He had his guy pinned in a choke hold, and by the color on his face, air was becoming an issue. "Spence!" she called, just as the guy went limp.

"It's okay, he's passed out," he told her, out of breath from effort on his part. He stood back, faltering for a moment, and she caught him.

"You're bleeding," she touched his face.

"It's nothing," he promised, looking at the guy. His face may have been 'nothing,' but the act of it had been far from that.

"We need to move," Santana came in to repeat her binding with this guy. This was her part of the effort, the only one they'd let her do, and she would do it. Spencer nodded.

"She's right. If anyone comes looking for them or tries to reach them, they'll know we're here." The one who'd recognized him and was still conscious, had been looking at Quinn and then he started muttering against the tape on his mouth: He'd just recognized her from the picture. She was the one they were after. Santana moved to him and promptly kicked him in the head… Now he was out.

"That felt good," she breathed out. "Get their radios."

X

They were playing gladiator in the choir room, shields and spears and wicked helmets. No one ever hit anyone, but they would shout, and lunge, and clash…

Then all of a sudden it was dark, and cold, and she felt weak, and she remembered where she was. She was nowhere near the choir room, that was ages ago. She had only just regained consciousness, and the pain woke up as well.

The strain in her arms made her remember the last moments preceding her fall into unconsciousness and the New Directions' gladiator games. She would have gotten out, she was almost there and then they had to go and catch her.

She tugged at the cuffs against the pipe, but she knew it wasn't just that she was exhausted and weak. The pipe wouldn't give way like the chair had. She had no other option though, if she wanted to try and free herself. So she'd keep trying.

X

With the men out and restrained, Quinn, Santana, and Spencer had no choice but to go as fast as they could, while still trying not to be spotted. They hadn't been caught yet, besides the two, but that was taken care of, so all that was left was to find Brittany and get her out. They had a general idea of where they were headed, thanks to Quinn, but they also knew the closer they got the more they faced bigger risks.

"Here, this way," Quinn turned and they followed, landing in a long corridor lined with doors. Now they saw what she meant by the higher risks of being in that area. They could so easily get cornered. Also they had no idea what or who they might find behind those doors.

"Okay, we gotta start," Santana frowned. They got to opening the doors, one by one, but they were finding nothing, no people, no…

The clink was faint but, being hyper alert at this point, she heard it. She tried to figure out where it was coming from, and she looked down the hall, slowly followed it.

"Santana, wait!" Quinn called after her, in as high of a whisper as she could, but she wouldn't stop, so they followed. Before long they could hear it too, getting louder as they neared and it sounded… metal to metal, big and small…

They found the door, and Santana tried the knob – locked. Spencer made her move out of the way. They could all feel it, this was it, so no point in pretending like this wasn't. He wound up his leg and kicked the door in.

Light poured in from the hall into the room and found legs, a startled clinking of metals, and Santana reached for the light switch.

She blinked against harsh light and could barely lock onto their faces, but there she was… They'd found Brittany, and she was alive.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	14. Found

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Impact, Aftershock, Aftermath._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**14. Found**

Brittany flinched at the light, tried to hide her face both to protect her eyes and in fear of what they would do to her now, and she was so in shock she couldn't hear the relieved cries. The thing that brought her back to reality was a hand, gentle and familiar on her cheek. She looked back up, needing to know that it was real, that she hadn't taken one too many hits and started hallucinating. She needed to know she was real.

"San?" her voice came out mangled.

"I'm here, I'm here," her wife hushed, and she let out a breath. "I found you…" she sounded broken, too.

"Don't cry, please, I'll start," she begged, and Santana laughed for the first time in a day.

"Alright, I won't."

"Liar," Brittany told her, and every word she was speaking was soothing her rescuers.

"I'm getting you out of here, that's truth," she told her.

"Don't move," Quinn stepped up to undo the cuffs.

"Quinn…" Brittany sighed with a smile. "You're here, too."

"Where else would I be?" Quinn told her with a chuckle. "Easy," she instructed as she released her arms from the cuffs and she was able to bring them down.

"Here, can you hold it?" Spencer crouched on her other side and held out a water bottle. She took it with shaking hands and had chugged down half of it before she recognized him and paused.

"Spencer? What…" She couldn't wrap her head around him being there, and she looked to the other two.

"It's okay, he knows," Quinn told her.

"It's a long story, but… he's okay," Santana promised, eyes turning to him as she said this, and he gave a small nod and a smile.

"You can hear all about it when we've gotten out of here. Which we should be doing now…" Spencer told the girls.

"Can you stand?" Quinn asked, noticing the vest wrapped around her foot. Santana saw it, too, and if the cuts and bruises she'd already seen on her face and arms weren't enough to rile her up, this just made it worse.

"Just barely. Pretty sure my ankle's broken," she cringed as both Spencer and Quinn worked to get her up.

"I've got her," Santana came up and Brittany put her arm around her shoulders. "I'll try not to go fast, but we'll need to hurry," she told her.

"I understand," Brittany just sounded relieved that she was here, that they were all here, and that they were leaving. But then she remembered. "Quinn they had your picture, they wanted… They told me a date, I didn't say anything, but I remembered, that's the place you were that night, wasn't it? When you came to us…"

"It is, I know," she told her, and her mind was already going back to the rest of it, their situation…

Then an alarm rang, and all four looked up. "Oops…" Santana sighed. Spencer looked out into the hall to find a man at one end. He wasn't moving, so that could only mean there were more coming and he'd been told to wait… Their mistake, and his and the girls' one shot.

"Got one standing guard, more on the way," he informed them. He could see Quinn thinking it out, and even just knowing of this side of her life for less than a day, he could already read where her head was at.

"You guys go," she spoke up then, looking to all of them. "I'll draw them away," she pulled out the gun. "It's me they want anyway."

"Like hell," Santana shook her head, and Brittany was silent but her face said the same.

"You have to get out of here, both of you… and you know why," Quinn gave Santana a pointed look, and she flinched, remembering Brittany didn't even know yet, she still had to tell her… not here. "Please," Quinn touched her arm, and Santana stared into her eyes. She didn't like this one bit, but she knew as well as Quinn did that her priorities had to go over her worries for her friend and partner in 'crime.' She shook her head… She didn't like this.

"No casual sightseeing here. You get out as quick as you can."

"I'll do what I can," Quinn promised before turning to Spencer. "Get them out, I'll…" He stopped her.

"No way I'm leaving you here alone. I'm staying with you." She went to speak, but again he stopped her. "You want to protect me, I get that. You in here alone is not the way to do it."

"Quinn, come on, we need to get moving. Suck it up and do what you gotta do," Santana told her. It took a breath, but she presented Santana with the plan she'd drawn.

"You two go down that way once we tell you it's clear. Your best route should still be through here. If that doesn't work, you've got this one, then that one there if you're really out of options."

"Yeah, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Santana walked Brittany by the door, ready to go as soon as they got the go ahead. Quinn turned to Spencer, wishing she could tell him to go.

"I need you to show me something."

When they stepped out in the hall, Quinn before Spencer, both of them with their hands up, the guard at the end of the hall took out his gun and pointed it at them. "Don't move!"

"I believe you're looking for me?" she told him, both of them still moving forward. "Your boss is anxious, yes? To talk to me?" her voice had him distracted enough so that, after just a fifteen second lesson, she was able to pull Spencer's disarmament trick and step out of the way for him to knock out the guard. "Move!" she called back.

Santana went along, while Brittany did her best to shuffle in step with her. They made it to the other end of the hall, and they looked back just briefly to lock eye with Quinn, everyone was scared, but they had to go, so they went. One pair made to go unnoticed, while the other aimed to draw as much attention as they could.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	15. Distraction

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 1._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**15. Distraction**

Quinn and Spencer tore through the halls, putting enough distance between themselves and the other pair before they attempted to do a thing. Everyone in that building had to know she was there by now, but the idea was to direct all their manpower on to finding her, to the point where they might forget about the prisoner or anyone who might be helping her out.

"Okay, here's a thought…" Quinn panted as they stood at a pause. She pulled out her gun, the one she'd confiscated now tucked at her back. "Follow my lead."

"I can do that," he promised. She cringed, shutting her eyes and bracing for what she knew was going to be very loud… But then that was what she wanted. She pointed the gun up and pulled the trigger, once and then a second time. It was startling, but it woke her up at the same time… She wasn't the only one…

"I hear them," Spencer looked back where they'd come from. She just smirked at him. It was working. Now it just had to keep working. Neither of them was left unaware that they could fall in a trap, but they had to keep going.

"Then let them chase us."

They took off once again, and as she'd instructed, he followed. It didn't take him long to figure she knew exactly where she was going. He'd looked at her plans briefly, but she knew them inside and out, he could tell. It didn't matter that it had been years since she'd been here last, the more she saw, the more she remembered, and he had to trust that.

They were always ahead of their chase pack, always out of reach. They went this way and that, went up one floor, came down two… Every now and then they would fire another round, to make sure they were still following, and maybe just maybe to piss them off a bit. The longer it went on, the more they ran the risk that either someone would wise up and find a way to cut them off, or that if they ever did come face to face they would make them both suffer, but at this point there was no turning back. They knew what they had stayed to do, and they would do it.

"This way," she told him, and the tone in her voice was clear: stay alert. If they hadn't hooked them all to the chase, there might still be people here.

She checked the room, and in some luck, not only was it just as she had recalled, it was clear. She pulled him in and shut the door. She locked it and broke something in the lock, taking a step back. This was the place they would either come out winning or they would be taken.

"Just out of curiosity, are you planning on getting out of here?" Spencer asked calmly.

"I've done it before," she pointed to the window. Her arm gave a flash of pain as she remembered her last time climbing out that window, how it had felt when she cut her arm… In a way, Trinity had been created out of this very incident, this window… She just had to hope it wouldn't end with that same window.

"Do you think they're out yet?" he asked, and she looked to him.

They weren't done. There was still one matter they had to sort out, the one they had ignored, forgotten for convenience's sake. To show he understood, he started moving furniture in front of the door. The thing wasn't some brittle wood, and they'd bought time with the lock, but they could always use more.

With him working at that, she'd gone to the computer. She had picked up a lot in her time, and it was almost child's play to get access right away. She searched, and then there it was… They'd been doing their homework on her, they had… so much… too much.

All this time she had let herself get comfortable. They were careful, always, but they'd never been caught, so… it was okay. But now she was seeing this, seeing names, some photos, addresses… She couldn't breathe. She covered her mouth, trying not to be heard, but still Spencer looked over and saw the screen.

"I can take care of it," she promised, though her voice was trembling. And then the door rattled with the first hits to try and get it open.

"Take a breath, forget them," he kept his voice unaffected by the situation to help her focus. He was standing guard at the door, knowing what was on the other end trying to get in. "Do what you did all day. Take care of your family." She let out a breath, took another, and she turned back to the screen.

She knew what she had to do. She didn't make a habit of putting it into practice, as it would involve getting this closely involved, and they usually didn't. But regardless, if they were flawless all those years, it was for reason: they knew what they were doing. She would get in there, she would wipe them out… They'd made a bad move coming after the people she loved.

She typed like a fury, like her life depended on it, but it was more than that, it was other people's lives that depended on what she did. She carried every one of them as she worked, not only to erase all the information, but to bring their whole system to the ground.

She was through deleting, but then as she moved to her next phase, she saw something else… She had access to security measures. She'd heard some rumblings about that when she'd been looking into this place the last time, but now what she saw was more than rumblings.

"Spencer," she called to him as she stood back. He came to her.

"Did you get rid of it?"

"Oh, I got rid of it," she nodded. "Then… that," she pointed to the screen, and he froze, too. They looked to one another.

Whatever was about to happen, one way or the other, they had to choose it now and quickly. They had less and less time with each new curve ball that came their way, and still she hadn't completely lost her calm. Maybe it was because her friends were safe, or because Spencer was there to help her. Or maybe it was because she knew the real thing to be worried about hadn't happened yet.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	16. Escape

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 2._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**16. Escape**

Quinn's directions had been spot on, all things considered. They couldn't move too fast, though Brittany was pushing through the pain the whole way, allowing some momentum at least. They were very aware that they needed to be as discreet as possible. This wasn't helped by the fact that, at one point, they were sure they'd heard gun shots.

But then they had found the door to the small staircase, which then led to another door at the bottom. There was a lock, but that was nothing to them and, within seconds, it was removed.

When Santana opened the door and they felt the fresh air, it was intoxicating. For that, they needed to be careful. It was too easy to feel that breeze and think they were home free, but they weren't. They had to proceed just as carefully, and hope they wouldn't get caught. Being out here was almost just as bad as being inside. A wide open area, with high vantage points for the others, and no place to hide for them. But on they went, just hoping their friends would join them soon.

"Here, we're good, you need to rest…" Santana would finally say as they made it a good distance and she could hear Brittany's failed attempts at hiding her pain. She would have been surprised she hadn't passed out yet, but at the same time she was just so proud of her, so relieved she had found her.

"No, I can go…" she insisted, but as soon as Santana moved to get her seated, she complied. She sat right with her, facing her, observing her.

It physically ached to see how her soft pale skin had been ravaged, left all bruised and battered, bloody and broken. She finally allowed herself to cry, holding her hands, looking to the bruises on her wrists from the cuffs. She kissed her fingers, touched the ring still gleaming at her finger…

"I thought I'd lost you…" she couldn't contain herself. It would figure that in the end it was Brittany, after all she'd been through, who would have to comfort her. But then Santana could see how it was all starting to hit her, how she had fought through, but now the fighting was done, and she needed to relinquish herself to fear, too.

"They could have killed you, and Quinn… I couldn't… I couldn't let that happen, even if it meant…" she didn't finish, but Santana understood. That was when she knew it was time to tell her… She deserved something good to hang on to.

"Britt, I need to tell you something." The blonde looked up at her. "I was going to tell you last night, but then…" she trailed off, took a breath. "It f… We…" She paused again. "I'm pregnant," she finally said, and the way her wife's face just went from tired relief, to shock and confusion, to tearful elation, just got Santana crying all over again.

"We… Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm good and knocked up," she vowed and, unable to reach her arms so good, Brittany had tugged for her to get closer, sliding her arms around her back to hold her. Santana closed in the hug, gingerly holding so not to harm her any further. But then Brittany pulled back, frowning.

"What were you… you shouldn't have been in there, you could have gotten hurt and the baby…" It was still all settling with her, so much so that just saying the word baby had made her smile without her knowing.

"I know," she nodded.

"What about Quinn, does she know?"

"Yeah, kind of didn't have a choice telling her. That's why we ended up bringing the Scottish Wonder Boy. By the way, something you'll need to know about him… But it can wait."

"Wait, so you're okay, right? You didn't fall or bump into anything…"

"No, they kept me safe," Santana promised, slightly charmed by the attentive little cautions that took Brittany over and turned her into an expecting parent.

"That's good," Brittany allowed herself to calm, looking up into her eyes. Now when she pulled her forward it wasn't for a hug but for a kiss. Santana could feel her trembling and hesitant, like she was ashamed of her chapped and cut lips, but with her own lips, Santana promised she hadn't noticed a thing. All she felt was the woman she loved, back safely in her arms after she'd been so terrified never to see her again. They whispered words of love at each other's ear, just holding in silence for a moment as they both let themselves accept that this was real, that the nightmare was over and they could soon go home and put this day behind them.

The night air was filled with the faint whistle of wind, the hum and the drone of cars near and far, practically a lullaby to everyone, telling them to go to sleep.

So then when a sound, a chain of sounds, came out of nowhere, so loud and shattering, they startled… An explosion. They had gotten far enough that neither flame nor debris could touch them, only maybe the wave of disruption the blast put in the air. What was more likely to injure them was not physical.

Their eyes saw it all, the explosion that levelled a good part of the building and looked ready to take the rest.

"Quinn!" Brittany cried out, her voice confused in the loudness, made louder by the car alarms that had been triggered.

Santana sprang to her feet, scanning the fiery mess, begging to see the pair of them coming forward. "I didn't pack explosives…" she mumbled under her breath, still hearing Brittany calling for Quinn, panicking… She wasn't exactly shying away from that feeling herself.

They would have gotten out, no matter what. She didn't know much about Spencer, but she knew Quinn Fabray. That girl never gave up, and she would get through this… Oh, please, let her have come through this…

"Britt, we need to… We…" Her instincts told her to take her wife and run, but… Quinn had come through for them, and she would wait for her, because Quinn Fabray didn't quit, and she would get out of there… Soon… She could only hope…

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	17. Boom

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 3._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**17. Boom**

She'd turned when she heard Brittany grunting and found her struggling to stand. Santana immediately went to her, holding her and trying to get her down again. "What are you…"

"Help me up, I… Help me up!" she begged.

"You can't walk!" Santana shook her head, while Brittany still tried.

"I have to," she insisted. "We have to go, and see, and… and help…" she maintained, and they were both crying.

"Sit, I'll go," Santana got her back to the grass, but she wasn't letting go.

"No…" her voice had strength in it again, and she looked to Santana. "Can't leave you again, please…"

"Okay…" she had to relent, more than sympathetic to the feeling. "Okay, hold on to me," she guided, helping her stand. Every movement meant more pain, she could see it in her blue eyes, but she wasn't complaining. She got her arm around her shoulders again, and they took just a few steps before Brittany stopped her. "What? What's wrong? Are you…"

"I saw… I-I don't kn… There!" she pointed, and Santana looked.

It was hard to see at first, especially against the brightness of the flames, but as they got nearer, their outlines cleared. Two figures, taller, shorter… male, female… brown hair, blonde hair… Spencer and Quinn… Santana's response came somewhere between swearing and praying. The closer they got, the other two could see they were injured.

"I'm going to put you back down, alright?" Santana told Brittany.

"Just go help them," Brittany agreed, letting herself get lowered back to the grass. Santana went running after the others, the better to see the damage.

Their clothes had met fire here and there. The way she cradled her arm, Santana wasn't sure if she'd broken it or if she'd dislocated her shoulder. There were scrapes on her face on the same side, and she'd later confirm all of it was the result of her landing as they had to take a dive off the wall. Spencer, for his part, looked pale and out of breath and was walking with his back locked like he couldn't move without worsening his pain. It was as she walked and saw his back that she saw the burn that had left a hole in his shirt big enough for a head. She helped them back to where Brittany waited, and when she saw them she tried once again to get up.

"I've got him, go help her up," Quinn spoke loud, her ears still ringing from being much closer to the blast. "We have to get out of here."

"What happened?" Brittany asked, while Santana once again got her to her feet.

"I'll tell you in the car, we have to go before the cops get here," Quinn shook her head, and they didn't argue any further, gathering up their bags and moving away as fast as injured bodies would go. They were hearing sirens as they got to cover.

"I'll get Winger his car back later, get in," Santana got the back door and passenger doors open. Quinn sat in the back, with Spencer laid out across the seats, his head in her lap and his burned back left up. Santana got Brittany in the passenger side before getting in the driver's seat and pulling away. She kept them away from the area surrounding the burning building and, after enough distance, pulled out her phone.

"Get me Claudia, now!" she spoke to who they guessed was Lucas. After a beat, their ally and doctor came on the line. "Listen to me carefully. I've got one with a broken ankle, another with a major burn, and then one more with a broken arm or disloc…"

"Feels like a break…" Quinn provided.

"… broken arm," Santana amended, paused. "Yes, I'm fine. But we need you, can you…" She listened. "Hospital might be a b… No, I understand, I… Fine. But they can't see us, can't know we're there… Twenty minutes? Okay. Thanks, Mama," she hung up, hit the brakes, then took them down a different direction. "She'll meet us at the hospital, back door…"

The car was silent for a minute before Brittany looked in the rear view mirror to Quinn and Spencer. She looked like her mind was miles away, though at the same time she'd gently stroke his hair. He was still conscious, though he looked this close to passing out; Quinn's touch was keeping him around.

"What happened?" Brittany finally asked. Quinn looked to her. She took a moment but she finally started talking, looking to Spencer.

"We ran, drew them out after us for a while. Then we got to one of the offices, barricaded ourselves in. I got on the computer, found what they had on me. I deleted it, went to crash their system, but then, I… Their security measures, it… it triggered something, and…" And 'boom,' they could guess.

"Did anyone else get out?" Santana asked, and again Quinn froze up in silence.

"I didn't… If anyone s-survived, they'll be trapped, I think…" Her voice was small, and Santana knew now why it had been silent before…

Even if some might have survived, others would surely have died, and by her actions. She'd already been feeling responsible for Brittany's kidnapping, but this was even worse, this was people's lives ended by her actions. As much as it could fix their predicament, she wouldn't see it that way. It would weigh heavy on her conscience. In her lap, even barely conscious, Spencer would reach for her hand, his way to be there for her, all he could do for now.

"I'm getting you guys to Claudia, she'll take care of you, and then we can figure out what comes next…" Santana nodded.

"We do nothing," Quinn spoke up. "We lay low to recover, but we live our lives… That's what we need right now, that's all we can do."

"I'm hungry… starving…" Brittany declared. Santana pointed to the glove compartment and the one-time prisoner/hostage found a couple of chocolate bars which promptly disappeared. The day was done. Morning would be another story, but they would face it as best they could.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	18. Disrupted

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 4._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**18. Disrupted**

_Three weeks later_

It was not Brittany's first tango with crutch walking. The first day or two was harder because of her arms, but that got easier with time. Those first few days were spent in 'mandatory bed rest' either way. After a long sleep, after having eaten to her hunger's content, the events of that day had finally sunk in. What had happened to her had been traumatic, the most in her life, and except for Santana, Quinn, Spencer, and Claudia, she wouldn't see anyone. She needed to feel safe and, more than that, she had to recover without anyone else knowing there had been anything to recover from. As far as the world knew, she had never been kidnapped, just like she wasn't a thief.

Eventually, things had gotten better. She still couldn't go out, but her spirits were lifted. Quinn was her 'cast twin,' one on an ankle, the other on an arm. Spencer's burn had come near to him requiring more than what Claudia on her own could do, but in the end it had been handled. Quinn had him living with them for the sake of his recovery… The four of them looked like a band of hospital escapees, but it worked. And of course there was Santana and the baby.

That had been the thing to get her smiling again, the thought that inside her wife their baby was thriving. Claudia had checked her out as well, to make sure that he or she was alright. It was too small to even resemble anything remotely human, but it was there and, by Claudia's examination, perfectly healthy.

On that night, with three weeks gone between them all and that dark day, Brittany had come out from her shower to find Santana laid out on the bed, reading… "Is that a decor…"

"You were the one who started talking about nurseries; I got curious," Santana defended herself, pulling the magazine down. Brittany smiled, hopping herself over to the bed, robe flapping along before she could come and sit with her. "You're not even dry yet," Santana tried to sound annoyed, but she just smiled.

"So?" she shrugged, settling her head in her hand as she rested sideways, reaching her other hand to rest on her wife's still defined stomach. "You don't mind," she addressed their unborn child with a smirk.

"I don't know that it even has a brain yet… or ears," Santana laughed. Brittany's adoration for the formless little entity was nothing short of perfect.

"Stop, you'll hurt its feelings. Apologize."

"Sorry, Tadpole," Santana complied, and Brittany smiled.

"Thank you."

When the doorbell rang, they looked to one another, deciding who would go. "Crutches… Naked," Santana tugged at the bathrobe. "I'll go."

"I'll get dressed," Brittany nodded.

"Don't you dare," Santana turned a wicked smile on her, and Brittany beamed, relenting. Still she reached for her crutches to follow after her, even if it would take her longer.

Santana reached the door after the bell had been rung a second time, and she was ready to either apologize for her tardiness or chew out whoever it was for their impatience, when she looked through the peephole and blanched… Two police officers. She looked over her shoulder to Brittany just coming in now, gave the signal they had long established for 'cops.' The blonde straightened up, growing alert… They had feared this.

The explosion had made the news. The four of them, banged up and bandaged up, had watched it all unfold in the following days. No survivors had been pulled from the ruins, according to them. Having more information, the girls and Spencer couldn't be sure that this was true, but as harsh as it sounded, they hoped it was true.

The only one who'd shown a different view on it of course was Quinn. She played it cool, but they knew it was still on her mind… How could it not. Even after the story had lost steam, coverage wise, it wasn't over for her. For the rest of them there was fear that this would get traced back to them, and now…

Santana relaxed her face before opening the door. "Yes?"

"Is this the residence of Quinn Fabray?" the younger officer asked, reading from his information. Santana felt a chill, but she couldn't let it show.

"It is, I'm one of her roommates," she explained. "What's this about?"

"May we come in?" the second officer asked, and Santana hesitated… they didn't look concerned with her, or Brittany… now her concerns shifted.

"Tell me why you're here first." The cops shared a look, and then the older one took up the task.

"There was an accident, earlier tonight. I regret I must inform you neither passenger, including Miss Fabray, survived." It felt like someone had smacked her in the face with a cannonball. She'd heard wrong, it couldn't…

"I'm sorry, I…" she struggled.

"The other victim was a Spencer Lowry," he read again. "Did you know him?" Second hit, in the gut…

"It's… it's a mistake, it's… no. No, it's a mistake," her voice went from shock and confusion to determination and anger. "I want to see them."

"Ma'am, we c…"

"Don't you ma'am me," she glared at the younger officer. "Wouldn't be the first time you people have made mistakes, let us identify them if you're so sure," she held her ground… It was all she had to hang to or else she just might fall. A brief consultation had granted her a nod.

When she'd turned to look to Brittany, she saw her face and realized she hadn't heard a thing… She'd have to tell her.

Ten minutes later they were being driven to the morgue by the cops. Brittany still looked as near catatonic as she had after Santana had told her what the cops had said, about Quinn, and Spencer… whereas Santana would deny it as nothing more than a filthy lie, Brittany lived in constant fear that it would be true.

When they reached the morgue, walking down the corridor to the window with the closed curtains, they couldn't even make a sound. What if it was real? What if they were really gone? They stopped at the window and, after they'd both claimed themselves ready, the curtains were pulled back.

The two tables set side by side would be a nightmare that would forever haunt them in how wrong it looked, even as the bodies were still covered. But then the sheets had been pulled from their faces, and all at once the blood drained from the faces on the other side of the window, those of Santana and Brittany as they saw there had been no mistake: it was Quinn and Spencer on those tables, unmoving, pale, and dead.

Santana had no voice, while Brittany had too much, and Santana reached for her, wrapping her arms around her, trembling and lost. The crutches clattered to the ground, forgotten as Brittany wept freely at Santana's shoulder. She cried as well, even where most of her was simply gone, unable to process what was happening, her tears could not be contained.

After everything they had been through, for it to come to this, for it to end this way, was just incomprehensible. But then they supposed it was right, that she should go not as Breaker, but as herself. It would not be accepted right away, it couldn't… Their best friend was gone, gone much too soon…

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	19. Sacrifice

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 5._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**19. Sacrifice**

_Three Weeks Earlier_

The screen itself looked dangerous, flashing, counting down: less than three minutes now. "Did you know about this?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, still staring transfixed.

"What can we do? Can you stop it?"

"How? I don't even know how I started it. I mean, I do, but…" She sat again, tried to type something, anything… but the keyboard wouldn't respond. "Can't stop it."

"How big are we talking about?"

"Wouldn't put it past them to level the whole thing," she spoke, still aware of the efforts to get through the door. More than that, now she was aware of what was about to happen, to her and Spencer, to the people outside that door.

There was no reasoning with them. If she opened that door they would sooner shoot her in the head than listen to her warnings. And whether that happened or not, they wouldn't be safe. Her family, her friends, targeted for her actions, this couldn't be, no. She had to handle it, fix it… and the way she saw it, that would only happen if two things came to pass.

She had to let the explosion take its course, leave them all inside…

And she had to disappear.

"Spencer, we have to go," she moved to the window, but he stopped her.

"Hold on, what's happening?" he asked, trying to see her face. When he did, he knew. "So you're running."

"I have to," she shook her head, eyes filled with sadness. "Even then, if this is what I have to do, then I'm gone either way," she pointed at the door. "This isn't me," she cried. "This is not what I set out to do. Now people are hurt, and people are about to die…"

"What you're suggesting…"

"Some of them might survive," she pointed out. "Or they could have gotten out or not been there at all. Whatever… this fixes, how do I know they won't come after them again? It's me they want, just me. Then I can't be part of the equation anymore."

"Be dead to the world," he translated, and she wept still.

"Yes."

"Even them?" he pointed out the window, meaning Santana and Brittany, and her face only crumpled up even more.

"Especially them. They need to believe it."

"Think about what you're suggesting: you wouldn't be you anymore, Quinn Fabray would be dead. You would never see them again, your mother, your sister, all your friends here and in Ohio, Santana, Brittany, their baby… You would have to lie from now on, start a new life…" he rattled it all off and with every new thing her knees buckled. "Can you really do that?"

"Yes…" she hadn't hesitated, but her voice trembled. He let out a breath, looking back at her.

"I can't…"

"Spencer, I have to, I…"

"No, I can't let you do this by yourself," he finished, and she paused.

"I can't let you do that, i-it's crazy, it's your life, your new life like you wanted it…"

"I've already left everything behind once, I can do it again. And I'll tell you something, this new life of mine didn't start being anything worth cherishing until the day I met you. If you're gone, then I'll have nothing…" She was already crying, but hearing this, seeing how he looked on the verge of tears as well. "I said I loved you, and I meant it. If that means leaving my name behind, then they can have it. I just need you." Somewhere in the adrenaline, the fear, the confusion, her heart fluttered, refusing to go unheard.

"This is crazy…" she spoke, though her tone was accepting his offer.

"Sanity's always been a bit boring," he told her, and she ran a hand through her hair, trying to focus.

"We can't just leave now, now like this."

"Can't pack a suitcase either. Can't make it look like you left knowing you wouldn't come back. The clothes on your back, whatever you would carry with you."

"What about money?"

"We can take some but it won't be a lot. We'll have to find a way. Winger might be able to get some our way as well."

"Are you sure we should involve him?"

"Only one I'd trust to get us new identities that will hold up."

"Right," she realized.

"How are you going to make them believe?" he had to ask, and still the mention of what she was about to put them through broke her heart.

"I've actually got that one covered, I think," she admitted. They were running out of time, but they both knew whatever they decided, they had to decide it before they left this room. "We're really doing this…" she blinked.

"I am if you are," he nodded. She opened the window, and they started climbing down.

When the timer hit zero, they were thrown off the wall, and the world swam with fire and ache.

Neither of them really remembered landing, or standing. But then they were walking along, toward where they had to guess Santana and Brittany would go. When they did find them, the whole confusion of what was happening, along with their injuries, made the previous conversation seem like a distant memory for a moment.

But then they were in the car, and they knew… they had already begun lying. They had begun relying on each other as knowing what no one else did. He knew she was scared, and he was in mind numbing pain, but he was with her all the way, just as she would be for him.

Already she was beginning to say goodbye to Quinn Fabray, she had to. In a couple of weeks, she would be gone.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)


	20. Deception

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 6._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**20. Deception**

_Two Weeks Later_

With both of their injuries, they'd had to work out a delay in their plans. They knew they had to give it time either way. They needed to go as early as possible, but at the same time they didn't want it too close to the events of that night two weeks before. Though he didn't bring it up, he knew any time she had left at home was precious for Quinn, to spend time with her friends. He could tell how much she wished she could spend time with her family and everyone back in Ohio, but an impromptu visit so close to what they were about to do was going to raise some flags somewhere. So she stayed, and they waited.

Now though they had to take a big step. That night they were going out to Winger's. He had gotten his car back thanks to Santana, and he had been told about some of what had happened, but seeing the two of them walk in, Quinn still with her cast, Spencer still walking with pain in his back, it was more of a shock to him. He welcomed them with comfortable chairs, snacks, drinks, but they had to turn this down, and the seriousness in their faces alarmed the younger man.

"What's happening? They haven't taken anyone else, have they?" he asked, reaching for his car keys on reflex.

"No, it's fine," Quinn promised, scanning the walls for cameras. Winger understood this and stood straight. He reached under the counter, pulling out a keyboard.

"No audio, no visual," he vowed.

"We need your help. We need two new identities. Nothing temporary, this needs to be able to stick, do you understand?" Winger looked startled.

"Two new…" he looked to the two of them. "Wait, you're not actually…"

"You'll be the only one to know. No matter what happens, you can't tell anyone, especially Santana and Brittany."

"Wait, hold on…"

"And when they tell you we're dead, you have to react accordingly."

"Wait, wait!" he raised his voice, panicking. "Why are you doing this?"

"The less you know the better," Quinn assured him. "We wouldn't be doing it unless we had to." She paused. "Can you do this?" He hesitated.

"Hypothetically speaking, what would happen to me if I said no? You wouldn't… kill me, would you?"

"Are you saying no?" Quinn asked.

"No… I mean, no, I'm not saying no, I'm saying yes, I…"

"Well then I guess we'll never know," she nodded, and it took a moment for him to move, but he pulled out his laptop.

"Any preferences on names?" Quinn and Spencer looked to one another. They had discussed this one night, needing to own to the fact this was happening.

"Thomas Walker, Alexandra Archer," she spoke up, and the keyboard clattered. Dates of birth were added, hometowns. For Quinn, or Allie Archer at least, it was made to be Madison, Wisconsin, as he had called it home before moving to New York with Santana and Brittany. In Spencer and Tommy Walker's case though, it required a bit more complicated of a journey. His history would say he was born in New York but spent the better part of his life up to adolescence in Scotland. He could pull off the American accent, but a slip or two could be explained away in his backstory.

For a while they just stood there, waiting as Winger worked. When it came to pictures, Quinn had given instructions as to certain cosmetic changes, which Winger had introduced after the fact. He told them it would be a few days before he had everything ready.

"How are you going to pull this off? You're not dead, and they won't just…" Winger started. Quinn was standing at the window, looking at the city below.

"Someone owes me…"

X

_One Week Later_

The only reason this case had not hindered her moving to New York was that while her client was there, the target had not been. She'd kept the man's words, 'I owe you,' in her back pocket this whole time, and now she would cash in. The fact that he was the chief medical examiner promised her exactly what she needed, if he went along with it, which he did.

She didn't know what would be involved beyond her part, but he assured her it would hold up. There was just the matter of the identification. She knew her friends, knew they would need to see her to even accept that she was gone. They would take all necessary precautions to make it believable. They would lay bare under those sheets, made to appear wounded but cleaned up. And in the event that anyone should come right to the bodies, they had been injected, their heart rates slowed enough to pass for dead. As they had laid there, and the needle had gone into her arm, she felt as though this was it… She would die as Quinn Fabray and awaken as Allie Archer. There was one moment, as she was fading, when she wanted to stop, to change her mind. But it was too late. It was fear, of all the unknown…

It felt like part of her was still there, awake… She felt like she could hear an echo of something, of crying… Maybe it was just in her mind. The next thing she'd know, she was waking up, still lying on that table with a sheet over her. She was told to take it easy. She looked to the side, saw Spencer in the same stages of coming back to his senses.

Eventually she'd sat up, gathering the sheet around herself… It was done. She was dead. In the coming hours, days, they would all know, they would all grieve for her… Maybe she was grieving for herself, too, as tears overtook her. They rang hollow in that cold room.

When she felt his arms wrap around her, she hung on for dear life. She couldn't help it, everything had just happened… She would never see them again, all those people who had made her who she was. Now she had to start all over again, become Allie Archer. She hoped Spencer knew how much she loved him, too, knowing his own sacrifices, all for her…

When she'd calm, they would dress, meet Winger at the location they'd set, receive all their new documents, and the money he had gotten them, they would gather what they could, and they would leave New York.

TO BE CONCLUDED (TOMORROW)


	21. Departure

_**This is a shift day.** There will be another upload this afternoon: Give of Yourself, chapter 7._

* * *

**"Troika"**

**21. Departure**

_One Day Later_

She sat on a bench, staring at the departures board. Their train wasn't boarding for another hour. She absently played with the edge of her cast, the one clear and still present reminder of how she'd gotten here, because as for the rest… Her clothes were new, and after getting her hair cut three weeks ago because some of it had met the flames, now her whole head was a flame, turned red in the back of Winger's store and now matching the photos on her ID's. It would take some getting used to, but really that was just the smallest of her transformations… She had a whole new life.

She blinked as he held the coffee to her. "Thanks," she took the cup, looking to him as he sat at her side. His hair was all but gone. He'd shaved it, leaving just enough that it still covered his head. She reached out and touched it, breathing out.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" he asked, holding out a danish. She smiled, taking it. She wasn't used to this American voice of his yet. She had always loved the Scottish accent on him, but she knew in public he had to be Tommy, not Spencer.

"Thank you," she repeated before returning her eyes to the board.

"How are you?" he asked. It was a simple question, with a complicated answer. She looked to the cup, flexing her fingers against the warmth.

"I really liked being here… in New York. It was the closest thing I had to home in a long time. I'd sort of forgotten before, being on my own, what it was like to have people there who cared for you. Then I had them again and… I never wanted to be without it again. Now I look at what I've become and… I don't know who I am anymore."

"You've got me," he promised. "And that won't change." It got her smiling, and he returned it.

"I was looking forward to so much. Rachel and Puck's baby, now Santana and Brittany's… I'll never know them…" she spoke her thoughts aloud. "Not if they'll be boys, or girls, what their names will be, who they'll look like more… I was with all of them for so much, and now I'm not… I guess I really am dead."

"It'll get easier… Not because you want to but because it has to."

"There's still so much you don't know about me, and so much I don't know about you… Does it even matter anymore?" She dropped the danish bag in her lap, reaching to wipe at her eyes. In doing so, her eyes had gone to the cast on her arm.

She remembered sitting with Brittany, the two of them 'cast twins,' fraternal, she'd said, since they didn't look the same. They didn't want to have the whole thing covered in signatures and drawings like they might have had when they were younger, but they still wanted to do something to make it theirs. So Brittany had made her get a marker. On Brittany's cast, Quinn had drawn a smile, and on Quinn's cast, Brittany had drawn a heart with a '3' inside, just below the hole for her thumb.

Now she looked at it, and she remembered what her friend had told her after she'd finished. She'd told her how she knew Quinn felt guilty, but that she shouldn't, that she didn't blame her for what had happened to her, and that she was just glad it was over, and they were back together.

By then, of course, Quinn already knew what she was about to do, and she'd come so close to spilling the beans right then and there, because it would have felt so much better than what she had to do instead, which was to lie to her face.

She thought about her, about Santana, all their friends… She knew she had to power through, to stop getting lost in grief or she'd never recover, but… As much as they were losing her, she was losing all of them… That would take time to heal over.

"It will always matter, to us. It's where we came from," Spencer told her, and she chuckled.

"Where I came from… I came from this, from one girl on her own, to all of us… You know, it was so small at first. Just one thing, easy. And then it got bigger, and I… I was too far in to just make it small again. I was helping people, and that felt good. I'd hurt so many people before, maybe not the same way, but… it felt like I was making things right."

"You can still do that. You'll find a new way… I'll help."

"I know you will," she looked to him, breathing out. "I'm just stuck in this place now, all I can do is look back. I think once we've left New York, that's when I'll be able to stop reflecting and just start looking ahead." She looked into those blue eyes, her one good reason to smile lately. "I just keep talking about me, but… you've just…"

"Don't worry about me," he promised.

"No, but I do worry, I should…"

"I know you do. You have a tell."

"I do?" she looked down.

"You touch my hair," he nodded, and she laughed.

"Fine, maybe I have a tell."

They shared the danish, drank their coffees. Soon the call came for them to board the train. They didn't have much in the way of baggage. When they got to their seats, he let her have the window seat. He could feel her tensing, looking out that window. So when they felt that first jolt of motion of the train, he reached for her hand. He held it as they rode out of New York, as Tommy Walker and Allie Archer began their new life, with no plans, and only each other to depend on.

THE END

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_(End of the story, not the series ;))_


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